


Cavalry At The Door

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: They try to make it better, but only complicate everything.<br/>Warnings: Weasleycest, mentioned infidelity, angst, language, established relationship, heartache -oh, the lot.</p><p>A submission for charlieficathon at Livejournal in 2011</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Cavalry At The Door**  
  
“Knock again,” Harry instructed, with chattering teeth.  
  
With a resolute sigh, Ron rapped hard on Charlie's door again with his knuckles, before thudding the flat of his fist on the glass. “Charlie, come on you bastard, I'm freezing my bollocks off here!”  
  
Straining his ears, Ron waited for an answer. He looked at Harry who made a pained face and leant against the wall.  
  
“He knew we were coming...” Ron muttered beneath his breath. “If he's out...”  
“Will his wards accept you?” Harry mused aloud.  
“Can try it.” Ron looked at the door. “Can only land on my arse if not. Knowing Charlie I'll get a few black eyes too.”  
  
Harry snorted and rammed his hands into his armpits. “Hurry up, whatever you're doing.”  
  
Noticing the slightly blue tinge to his boyfriend's lips, Ron drew out his wand and tapped it at the keyhole of the cabin's door. To his utmost surprise and pleasure, the brass circle flashed blue with sparks and the door swung inwards. Warmth rushed out to bathe them and Harry darted past him into the hallway.  
  
“Make yourself at home.” Ron grinned, tugging at his scarf to loosen it. “Charlie? Where are you, you big, useless numpty?”  
“Er, Ron?”  
  
Harry's voice floated out from the sitting-room-cum-kitchen and Ron headed there, pulling off the mittens that his mother insisted on knitting for him, despite the fact that he was twenty-two.  
  
“What's up?”  
“Um... found him.” Harry pointed at the sofa, and Ron turned to look.  
“Fuck-”  
  
He threw his hand up to protect his eyes, having been greeted with the sight of his brother's bare backside and a slight side-shot of cock. Charlie was sprawled half on his front on the sofa, his pyjama bottoms sliding down his thighs. Around him, littering the carpet, lay a mess of empty beer bottles and an overflowing ashtray of cigarette ash and butts. His thick fingers were still wrapped around the neck of a mostly-empty bottle of plum brandy.  
  
“Oh, this is a very sad scene.” Ron sighed and shook his head.  
“What's wrong with him?” Harry cocked his head to one side to look at Charlie's slack expression.  
“Bill told me he was in a bad state after the break up but I've never seen him like this before.”  
“Like what?” Harry frowned. “He's asleep.”  
“Yeah but...” Ron gestured to the mess on the floor and Charlie's dishevelled appearance. “I could smell him from the hallway.”  
“Maybe he's just... having a rest?” Harry asked blandly, looking into the kitchen and seeing the full sink, messy sideboards, and overflowing bin at the same time as Ron.  
“Well, only one thing to do...” Ron bent down and gently extracted the glass bottle from Charlie's grip. Without pausing to brace himself, he leant over, pressed the cold glass to one bare buttock, and waited.  
  
“What the holy fuc-”  
“Hi,” Ron chirped, plastering a bright smile on his lips. “I've just travelled hundreds of miles to see you. Don't think much of your welcoming party service, to be honest.”  
  
Charlie let out something akin to a choke and struggled to sit up, groping for his pyjama bottoms. “That's today?”  
“Yeah, Charlie, it's today,” Harry said, and caught the curly redhead's attention for the first time.  
“Harry? Bollocks.”  
  
Ron stepped back as Charlie leapt to his feet and sent his ashtray flying in the process.  
  
“Whoa, sit down.” Ron seized him by the shoulders and pushed Charlie backwards, relying on his weak stature to aid him in pushing his hulking brother back to sitting. “What's going on?”  
“Rough night.” Charlie looked sheepishly at the empty bottles.  
“Broken heart?” Harry asked sympathetically, righting the ashtray with his foot.  
“Broken brain,” Charlie moaned, tipping his face forward into his hands.  
  
“Right,” Ron said authoritatively. “You. Shower now, and we'll tidy all this up.”  
“No, don't.” Charlie shook his head in protest and only seemed to make it ache. “Ow.”  
“Shower,” Ron repeated.  
  
Charlie's amber-brown eyes lifted and met Ron's own.  
  
“It's fine.” Ron shot him a smile. “We're only here to cheer you up anyway. I wanted to spend Christmas holed up ignoring the world, but oh no, I'm here with you.”  
“Ignore him,” Harry called airily.  
“Will do,” Charlie grunted as he pushed himself back to standing and headed off to the bathroom.  
  
Ron watched him go before shrugging out of his coat and throwing it over the back of the sofa.  
  
“That was weird,” Harry said pointedly. “That's not Charlie.”  
“That's Charlie with a hangover.” Ron bent and started picking up bottles. “Which you've never seen, but that's how he usually is.”  
“But... he's not right.”  
“I know he's not right, Harry.” Ron straightened up and stared at him. “But I don't know how to be with him other than be like normal. Hopefully the water will wake him up a bit and then he'll be a bit more like himself.”  
“His partner of seven years left him for a woman!” Harry said pointedly.  
“Keep your fucking voice down,” Ron glared as he spoke. “Walls are thin in this dump.”  
“I heard that!” Charlie's muffled voice floated out from the bathroom.  
  
Ron shot Harry a 'told you so' glare and headed for the bin. He used magic to shrink the already overflowing refuse and added more on top. “Come on, help me.”  
  
Harry's only answer to his plea was to wrap his arms around Ron's waist. “I love watching you be all domestic.”  
“Don't get used to it.” Ron smirked at the wall and leant back into Harry's warm chest. “We have a cleaner, Harry, and I love her to pieces.”  
“Your Mum's never forgiven us.”  
“Well, she didn't want to come in and change our filth-stained bedsheets.” Ron sniggered.  
“They wouldn't be if someone didn't insist on falling straight to sleep afterwards...”  
“Nothing better than a shag and a snooze,” Ron insisted, and not for the first time.  
  
Harry squeezed him tight and then released him. “Right. I'm washing and cleaning. You tidy. Tea?”  
“I could murder one.”  
  
***  
  
Half an hour later, Ron looked over the spotless living room and smiled. He closed the window next to him, which had been opened to let in a breeze to carry away the smell of smoke and alcohol. Harry was sat on the sofa, trying to make sense of a local Romanian rag. Charlie was still in the shower.  
  
“Think he's alright in there?” Ron looked worriedly at the door.  
“Probably trying to wash away the hangover,” Harry said.  
“And we know from experience that doesn't work.” Ron laughed and joined him on the sofa, hooking one leg up beneath his body and leaning in to kiss Harry on the cheek.  
  
“Feels like a holiday now.” Harry shot him a small smile and turned to meet their lips together. “And I like seeing you all protective and motherly.”  
“I'm not motherly.” Ron jabbed him playfully in the ribs and let his fingers trail to tickle Harry's tummy. “Take it back.”  
“Nope.”  
“Arse.”  
“Yup.”  
  
Ron shook his head and leant forward to rest his forehead on Harry's shoulder. “Tired.”  
“Long journey,” Harry pointed out.  
“And I didn't sleep last night.”  
“Why not?” Harry whispered.  
  
Ron didn't answer. The reason he hadn't achieved any sleep wasn't one he fancied talking about in the middle of the day. It was a conversation for the depths of night, to be whispered across a pillow when his face was hidden.  
  
“Feeling alright?”  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Okay, stop panicking, I'm back.”  
  
Charlie's voice heralded his entrance back into the sitting room and Ron sat up and blinked at him. Clean, freshly dressed and looking a much healthier pallor, Charlie stood grinning at them.  
  
“Took half a bottle of headache solution,” Charlie explained with a wink. “I'm back, boys. Anyway, why hasn't anybody given me a hug?”  
  
Ron eased off the sofa with a groan and took Charlie's warm embrace. A familiar scent of warm spice and broom polishing crème curled into his nostrils and Ron smiled at it -it smelt like his childhood. Charlie gave him a tight squeeze about the waist and Ron grunted in surprise.  
  
“Strong,” he commented, as Charlie released him.  
“What do you expect?” Charlie rolled his eyes as he bestowed the same hug on Harry. “And how are you? Keeping my 'icklest brother in line?”  
“Trying to,” Harry's voice muffled from Charlie's chest, where his face had landed in the crush.  
“You're still a midget then?” Charlie grinned, pushing the brunet away from him.  
“Ron, your brother's being mean.” A coat hanger might have hung off the pout on Harry's lower lip.  
“You are a midget,” Ron announced apologetically. “But you're my midget.”  
“Oh, well, that's alright then,” Harry huffed, and move off to put the kettle back on to boil. “Tea, Charlie?”  
“You _never_ have to ask me that question...” Charlie's eyes widened. “Now, updates please? And where's my food parcel from Mum?”  
  
An expectant palm flapped in front of Ron and he smiled. Somewhere in the thirty-minute-long shower, his brother had become himself again, and it was a relief to see.  
  


* * *

  
  
Charlie yawned as he shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing blearily at one eye. He was kicking himself mentally for a number of things -the first being that he had forgotten the imminent arrival of his little brother and his boyfriend, and had consequently let them find him with his head up his arse. He turned on the cold tap and ran himself a glass of water.  
  
They had spent the night talking and laughing, playing cards and chess and just _being_. Charlie wasn't a fool -he knew why they were there. Ron had been ordered to book a portkey to Romania for Christmas to keep him company by their mother. It couldn't have been Bill because of the children, nor Percy because it was his first Christmas with his wife. George was George, and no use to anybody. That left Ron, because Ginny was off training with the Harpies. Charlie coughed through the usual discomfort which arose from the fact that his baby sister was living his forgotten dream, and knocked back his whole glass of water in three gulps.  
  
“Morning.” The sleepy greeting came from behind him and Charlie turned, wishing he had put something on his top half.  
  
He knew he was an attractive man, and that his array of muscles and tattoos were a spectacle. They commanded vision. However, as Harry's emerald eyes landed on his chest and lingered there, Charlie felt dirty. That his brother's _lover_ was looking over him because he had no choice was incomprehensibly wrong in Charlie's mind.  
  
“Hey.” He pulled himself together and put his glass down in the sink. “Good sleep? That portkey knocks you about a bit.”  
“Tell me about it.” Harry stiffly rolled his neck in a circle and moaned. “No, good enough though, thanks. You?”  
  
Charlie shrugged and moved for the kettle, avoiding the question. “Tea? What about Ron?”  
“Ron's still asleep,” Harry said, easing himself down at the tiny kitchen table Charlie had squeezed into the kitchen. “And good thing too.”  
“What do you mean?” Charlie asked, filling the kettle with water. He looked over his shoulder at Harry for an explanation.  
“Ron is...” Harry's dark head shook and he looked at the table. “He's stressed all the time. It's everything -work, trying to help George... wanting to do the right things in our relationship. It's pushing him to his limit.”  
“He looks a bit frayed around the edges,” Charlie agreed thoughtfully, thinking of Ron's pale face and tired eyes.  
“I'm hoping a week here will do him good...” Harry shrugged. “Calm him down a bit. I've told him he's not allowed to contact work and he's not allowed to contact George either.”  
“Bill said that George is trying to make him the new Fred, and Ron doesn't cut it because they're so different?”  
“Spot on,” Harry moaned, burying his face in his hands. “When Ron is with George... George becomes alive again, and he gets all these ideas again and he invents and he's himself. Who wouldn't get addicted to a bit of life, Charlie?”  
  
His question seemed almost desperate, and when Charlie turned to look at him, there was something in Harry's expression which frightened him.  
  
“Everybody needs life,” Charlie confirmed. “But I had no idea that George had gotten so attached to Ron. It needs to stop. Ron isn't Fred -everyone to Merlin and back knows that Ron isn't the best with pressure and this must be immense.”  
“It is,” Harry said, his relief palpable. “But all your Mum can see is how good it is for George, and Perce's the same. Bill seems torn between the two and Ginny's never fucking there to comment.”  
  
Bitterness crept into his tone and Charlie bit down on his tongue. The history between Harry, Ron, Hermione Granger and his little sister was rocky and unfortunately public knowledge.  
  
“Harry... I don't think it's any secret as to why Ginny's never there...” Charlie said softly, feeling that he had to stand up for her. “And I think you know it kills her to see you and Ron together. She's never forgiven him.”  
“Godric, don't tell Ron that, whatever you do,” Harry said stonily. “He felt shit enough over the whole thing... but that'll just push him over the edge at the minute.”  
“I'm not stupid,” Charlie said firmly. “But you, Harry, I think I should be honest with you.”  
  
Harry let out a moan of assent and Charlie pulled two mugs from a cupboard on the wall.  
  
“How are things between you and Ron?” he asked quietly. “With all that stress?”  
“Tough, but I like to think we're getting there,” Harry answered honestly. “I mean... we argue a lot and Ron's not sleeping well at the minute and stuff... so he's tired and grumpy...”  
“He was like that when he was a kid.” Charlie snorted at the memory. “If he wasn't down and sleeping at the right time, he was hell all the next day. Cute though... he'd just want to cuddle up to the nearest warm body and shut his eyes. Normally me.”  
“He's said you were always his favourite pillow.”  
“I'm touched.” Charlie snorted with laughter. “How's work?”  
“Quietening down, thankfully. It'll be good for all of us. Kingsley threw our annual leave at us. We've got another week at home after this, too. He said he wanted us all fully rested for the World Cup next year.”  
“I look forward to my excellent complementary tickets,” Charlie edged.  
“You're first on the list,” Harry promised with a laugh.  
  
Turning back to the table with made tea, Charlie sat himself down and pushed one mug towards Harry.  
  
“Do you like living here, still?” Emerald eyes slid along the neutrally painted walls and small space.  
“It's enough for me... not like I've got a brood to look after in it,” Charlie pointed out.  
  
Bitterness rose in his belly and twisted his guts. He had been heading for a brood, he was sure, until he'd been left for a _woman._  
  
“Seven years is a really long time,” Harry murmured, not looking up from his cup. “How are you coping, Charlie?”  
“Short answer is that I'm not, as you saw yesterday.”  
“Still going to work though?”  
“Oh yeah... nothing gets in the way of work, Harry. But when I walk through that front door, that's it. I sink and I let myself sink.”  
“Ron says that's not like you.”  
“It isn't. But then...” he paused and drew a deep breath. “I really loved this one. More than I've ever loved anyone before and I thought that he was the man I would be with forever. I've been a slut and I've been happy about it, Harry... but this one... he was different.”  
“I'm really sorry...” Harry's tone was repentant.  
“I know it's weird that I talk about it.” Charlie flicked his thumbnail against his mug, enjoying the sound it made. “But I live alone. You two are about to cop some serious deep and meaningful. I hope you know what you've let yourselves in for.”  
  
“We know,” Harry promised. He winked at Charlie as he drank some tea.  
  
“You know what we all need?” Charlie thought aloud. “A good session in the pub. Drink, boys together, that sort of thing. You up for that? We can go tonight.”  
“Ron's not been drinking...” Harry said quietly.  
“Why not?”  
“I don't know,” Harry confessed. “I think it's because he doesn't like losing control these days...”  
“Well, maybe he needs a bit of control loss,” Charlie decided. “We'll bring him back, Harry, you and me.”  
  
“Bring who back?” Ron yawned on entering the kitchen.  
“Merlin,” Charlie answered evasively. “Morning.”  
“Hi.” Ron grinned sleepily and sat down in the last remaining chair. Without asking he leant over and tugged Harry's mug out of his hand and drank a deep gulp from it. “Alright?”  
  
“Yeah,” Harry smiled warmly in his direction, and reached out to brush Ron's tangled fringe out of his eyes.  
  
Watching the loving motion caused Charlie's guts to clench once more. He was glad that Harry and Ron were there -deeply glad; but watching them interact and love one another, to know that they were curled up in the same bed whilst he slept alone, would go a long way to driving him completely insane. His jealousy burned steadily within him as his pulse thudded in his ears.  
  
***  
  
“You're drunk,” Ron pointed out before dissolving into giggles.  
“Maybe.” Charlie waggled his eyebrows. “But then so are you, my dear, and I don't think Harry can see straight either.”  
“There are four of each of you... lucky me...” Harry smirked.  
  
Luckily for all of them, the local tavern around them was relatively full and their noise went unnoticed. Charlie knew he was loud, and that the other two were equally as vociferous. Ron's movements were beautifully loose. Both Charlie and Harry had been forced to coax the younger redhead into having a drink, and then another, and another, until he gave up resisting and just accepted the pints as they came. Ron's cheekbones were flushed and his eyes were bright. Overall he looked much healthier.  
  
Satisfied, Charlie slumped back in his chair and sipped at his own drink. Whether it was the eighth or ninth, he couldn't remember. His eyes travelled over the other punters. In the corner a man and a woman were glued together at the lip.  
  
“Ugh, get a room,” Charlie muttered sulkily, pointing for Harry and Ron to see.  
“Not a fan of PDA?” One of Harry's russet eyebrows rose questioningly.  
“Not when it's heterosexual,” Charlie scowled. “I don't need that rubbed in my face at the minute.”  
  
The sight soured his mood. The soaring elation he had felt at sitting with two men he both liked and respected, and cared for deeply, evaporated, leaving him bitter and lonely. “He was the best snogger in the _world_ he moaned.” He didn't miss the worried glance that Harry and Ron exchanged between them.  
“Sorry, Charlie, but that's rubbish... because I've got him in my bed,” Ron sang playfully, reaching over to poke Harry in the guts.  
“Don't, you'll make me blush,” Harry answered sardonically.  
“I don't believe it,” Charlie said flatly.  
  
“One PDA coming up.” Harry winked.  
  
He shifted his chair closer to Ron, and within seconds they were kissing. Charlie cast a quick glance around them, glad that he had chosen one of the more liberal local pubs in the area nearest to the reserve, before he let his eyes slide back to the obvious -and watched Harry Potter's tongue sliding in and out of his brother's mouth. It made his cock tingle with interest.  
  
Ron was responding, his long jaw working hard to move against Harry's. His eyelids were closed and fluttering slightly with pleasure.  
  
“Nah, I'm sorry,” Charlie interrupted. “Not good enough. I'd have to feel it for myself.”  
  
He hadn't meant his proclamation as an invitation, but when Harry broke away from Ron and bounded around the table, Charlie was left gaping between the brunet and his brother. Ron's blue eyes were wide and his lips parted with shock. Expecting a long stream of expletive and an absolute denial of permission, Charlie was staggered when his thin shoulders simply shrugged, and Ron continued to watch.  
  
“Wait, Harry-”  
  
His knees took the slight man's weight and then Charlie _felt_ him; his lips were like silk as they caressed across his own. He opened his mouth automatically in shock and Harry's tongue, still fresh with the taste of Ron, slithered inwards, and began stroking his own.  
  
“Fuck,” he mumbled, hands springing up instinctively to grip Harry's back.  
  
Harry pulled back with his glasses lopsided and a blush on his cheeks. “Well?”  
“Not convinced,” Charlie said breathlessly. Harry laughed as he clambered off his legs.  
“But... it's unfair really,” he slurred, as he toppled back into his seat. “I think Ron's a pretty wicked kisser... but you two can't test that, so you'll never know... he might be the best kisser... and you'd be in the dark about it...”  
“What's a bit of brotherly spit?” Charlie smirked, his tone full of bravado.  
  
He hadn't meant it. What surprised him was that Ron didn't protest. Full of alcohol, which pumped blood through his veins and stupidity through his mind, Charlie pushed himself up and headed for Ron, who also got up and darted behind Harry's chair.  
  
“Ooh, Harry, does he usually play hard to get like this?” Charlie laughed, as Ron circled the table to the other side to where Charlie stood, behind Harry.  
“Depends who's chasing.”  
  
Charlie moved again and, Ron, who tried to dart away again, was suddenly blocked by another table of patrons who rose and began putting their coats back on, ready to leave.  
  
“Fuck!” Ron laughed, as Charlie caught up with him. “This is not...”  
“Not what?” Charlie grinned evilly, and caught Ron's mouth with his own.  
  
A soft 'oh' sound escaped Ron's lips. Charlie had expected him to pull away and wipe disgustedly at his mouth, cursing about disgusting brothers and how some things just shouldn't be done. He was bowled over when, a few seconds after the muffled sound of surprise, Ron leant into him, and began to kiss him back.  
  
His brother's mouth was warm and tasted of beer. Charlie couldn't help exploring with his tongue, feeling the straightness of Ron's back teeth and the smoothness of the roof of his mouth. It was a moment before he realised that Ron's arms were around his waist, holding him, pulling their bodies together, and a second longer before he recognised the hardness in his brother's jeans.  
  
He pulled back abruptly. “Ron's the best kisser,” he announced without blinking, and without tearing his eyes away from Ron's face.  
  
“Told you,” Harry crowed. Neither of them turned to look at him.  
  
Charlie became all too aware of his hands on Ron's slender hips. They gripped him, holding him in place. He felt the rash puffing of Ron's breath over his face and saw the width of his blue eyes.  
  
“Ron?” he whispered.  
“I'm... fine...” Ron seemed unwilling to move. Charlie assumed that he was ashamed of Harry seeing the persistent column of flesh in his crotch. “Can we... can we go back to yours, Charlie?”  
  
“And do what?” Charlie asked thickly.  
“What do you think?” Harry asked, much closer than before.  
  
***  
Charlie didn't know how he had landed himself in the situation he was in, but he was too drunk to muster the words to complain about it. In any case, he wouldn't have, feeling Ron's long body stretched out on top of him, humping occasionally and hearing the rough, pleasured little moans from his red lips.  
  
They were red from excessive kissing and switching that had occurred between the pub and Charlie's bed. Harry and Ron, Ron and Charlie, Ron biting his lip whilst watching Harry kiss Charlie... they were a continually changing body of limbs.  
  
“Where's Harry?” he muttered, peering around for him. He saw the other man sat on the side of the bed, happily watching the pair of them. “Come here...”  
“I'm fine here, thanks.” Harry shook his head and remained where he sat.  
“Oh no, in for a knut, in for a galleon,” Charlie said pointedly, and rolled Ron off him.  
  
He jumped to his knees and pounced, catching Harry around the shoulders and knocking him onto his back. He straddled his legs and put one hand down to palm his cock through his jeans -except there was one problem. He wasn't hard. Through the fabric, Charlie thought he could feel something impossibly strong and unforgiving. He couldn't resist popping the button of Harry's jeans open, despite the brunette's protests. He slid the zip down and ignored his underwear, hooking it down with one finger.  
  
“Fucking hell!” he exclaimed, staring open-mouthed at the chastity device he had revealed, an intricate silver cage which was well fitted to Harry's penis. He turned to look at Ron, who had frozen, looking mortified.  
  
Charlie couldn't help himself. He tugged Harry's jeans down properly and lifted the secured shaft. He saw the piercing through the tip, securing the cage in place. Around the man's hips lay a dainty, glittering chain with no clasp, which attached to the device at the edges closest to Harry's body.  
  
“I didn't think you two had this in you!” Charlie gaped, absent-mindedly nudging Harry's piercing with the tip of his forefinger; a frustrated moan made him instinctively make the move again. “How... why... I didn't think...”  
“Nobody ever thinks anything of us but a cute, normal relationship,” Ron muttered. “Nobody. Don't act so surprised, Charlie -it hurts.”  
  
Ron suddenly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat facing away from them, his head bowed. Charlie looked at Harry, who looked away.  
  
“Ron, I'm sorry -I didn't mean it in a... bad way, I was just surprised. Happy surprised. I... if you go to the bottom drawer in my chest of drawers, you'll see why... honestly...”  
“It's fine,” Ron said stiffly.  
“It's clearly not,” Charlie whispered, wrapping his arms around Ron from behind. He pressed a soft kiss to his neck in apology. “Is this... are you ashamed of it?”  
“No,” Ron answered stoutly.  
“Good.”  
  
It had all become too deep for his liking, Charlie found. They had been clumsily and drunkenly fumbling along, but the atmosphere had thickened.  
  
“Come here,” Charlie pulled Ron backwards into his lap, allowing his long legs to trail off the bed. Unable to help himself, he let his fingers trail down his brother's flat stomach to pluck at the waistband of his jeans. “Permission?”  
“Granted,” Ron choked, pressing his hips into the air.  
  
It didn't take long for Charlie to expose him and grip his cock, prising it away from his body and causing Ron to moan. It was long, slightly thinner than Charlie's own. The head was already purpled and wet.  
  
“This is wrong...” Ron whispered. “But it feels so good...” His last word mutated into a moan as Charlie slowly pumped his shaft.  
  
The bed bounced as Harry climbed off it; soon he appeared in Charlie's vision, his eyes dark and fixed on Ron's cock as it was mastered by another man. Charlie glanced down at his caged cock and thought of what hell it must have been, to be confronted with such a sight and be trapped without hope of sensation.  
  
The delicious cruelty spurred him on to pull Ron off harder and faster, causing Ron to moan and Harry's expression to rocket from tortured to unutterably desperate. Bending his head, Charlie latched on to Ron's neck and sank his teeth in.  
  
“Charlie!”  
  
The sound of Ron's cry shouldn't have been music to his ears. It should have been wrong, completely wrong and deplorable -Ron was his _brother._ Even reality, however, couldn't stop the pressure from building in Charlie's crotch. He detached from Ron's neck gasping, chest heaving as he sucked at the air, lost in his inebriation and the smell rising up from Ron's crotch. His thatch of curly red hair at his groin was almost identical to Charlie's own, perhaps a little sparser. Ron's belly had fur, but not nearly enough for Charlie's standards. He stroked it and looked down into Ron's reddened face.  
  
“You're beautiful.” He whispered the words to make them intimate. He didn't miss the shiver which passed through Ron's body.  
  
“Someone get me out of this,” Harry begged suddenly, his fingers curled around the cage, holding it tightly. “Now.”  
“No.”  
  
Charlie was surprised with the speed and concentration that Ron leapt up from the bed and kicked out of his jeans. He sauntered towards Harry, his movements slow and almost prowling.  
  
“No...” He knocked Harry's hand aside and began to stroke his piercing. A high whine rose in the air and Ron, with a firmness that shocked Charlie, laughed. “No...” He moved behind Harry and grabbed him by the waist, burying his cock between his buttocks. Charlie watched wordlessly, taking in the look of anguish on Harry's face and the determined steel in Ron's eyes behind him.  
“Please...”  
“I said no...” Ron's words were a low hiss.  
  
“Ron... maybe you should shut him up?” Charlie said suggestively, palming his own crotch.  
  
Something flickered in Ron's expression that Charlie didn't recognise, and his mouth, so plumply swollen, seemed to tighten.  
  
“Harry... I think Charlie needs a hand.”  
“Or a mouth,” Charlie smirked. “Or whatever orifice you've got going, I'm not fussy.”  
  
A frustrated growl was all the answer Harry gave, but he knelt down by the bed and looked up into Charlie's face.  
  
“You get off on this?” Charlie asked drunkenly, as Harry began to work at the button of his jeans and then the zip.  
“If I'm allowed,” Harry answered, licking his lips like a whore.  
“You're going to kill me if you keep on doing that,” Charlie choked, and moaned when the head of his cock sank into Harry's warm mouth. “Fuck... Ron?”  
  
“I'm here...” Ron's breath was hot on the side of his face. “Here.”  
  
Charlie dragged his head in for a kiss. He kept his eyes open, wanting to see the way Ron's own face crumbled into the intimacy, and found that he wasn't disappointed. He found himself jealous all over again that Harry and Ron were able to share each other every night if they pleased, when they were so beautiful it would make lesser men cry. Ron's nose nudged constantly against Charlie's own, long meeting broad, and they fit together with ease.  
  
Harry's teeth suddenly razed along the edges of his cock and Charlie bucked, crying out into Ron's mouth.  
  
“More,” he begged, and Harry complied.  
  
Ron's fingers were suddenly stroking the dragon tattoo on his shoulder. Charlie didn't remember losing his t-shirt. He enjoyed the slow caresses and tried to commit them to memory, knowing that when he awoke the next morning he might not remember anything thanks to his hangover. Ron broke contact with his lips and pressed them to the tattoo instead. Charlie let his fingers make contact with Ron's belly again and trailed down until they found his cock, which he grabbed and began to pump. Ron shuddered and rolled his hips.  
  
“Charlie...” his name was uttered as more of a long moan than a word; it shot straight to his core. Harry muffled something around his cock and the vibration tickled, causing his balls to tighten.  
  
Charlie knew that neither he nor Ron had much time left. They were both too strung out, both too drunk to display any great feat of stamina, neither did they want to. All Charlie wanted was to come, long and hard. It didn't even matter to him whether Harry swallowed or spat, all he wanted was to finish.  
  
He pressed his thumb pad directly into the head of Ron's prick, parting the slit and making him gasp. Charlie began to swirl it, knowing he was imparting stinging pain and pleasure at the same time. Harry began to make the same motion with his tongue.  
  
“You... I've got to...” Ron whined.  
“Come,” Charlie finished for him.  
  
And almost in unison, both of them did. Charlie threw his head back and growled his release to the ceiling, thrusting forward into Harry's mouth. Ron's cry of completion was loud in his ear, deafening him to all else but the sound of his youngest brother's pleasure.  
  
When it faded, and Charlie's hand was coated in hot stickiness, he heard the gentle appreciation of Harry between his legs, drinking down his come.  
  
“Oh Godric,” he breathed, releasing Ron and falling back down on the bed. He closed his eyes and willed sleep to come on the high of his orgasm. Ron landed next to him and, without invitation, curled into the side of his body, hooking one leg over Charlie's own.  
“Are you two fucking serious?” Harry's indignant, hoarse voice barked over them. “What about me?”  
“Shut up, Harry,” Ron's voice was tight, almost emotional. Charlie didn't dare open his eyes. “Please... just... come here.”  
  
Glad that he couldn't see the look of anguish he expected to be on Harry's face, Charlie said nothing when the bed dipped and Harry's weight leant into his other side. He curled into him in almost exactly the same position as Ron. The heat of the cage around the man's cock brushed against Charlie's thigh, and he almost felt guilty enough to release him.  
  
His stomach lurched when he felt Harry and Ron lace their fingers together over his belly. His guilt died then and there, and Charlie concentrated solely on falling asleep.  
  
***  
The pounding of his head woke Charlie up. His mouth tasted strange, of beer and of man, and for the life of him he couldn't remember why it should. All around him the scent of sweat and body tumbled in the air; he recognised his own but couldn't place the other odours. When he felt dampness on his left shoulder, his eyes flew open and he was confronted with the fact that he had two men smothered over his body -his brother, and his brother's boyfriend.  
  
“Oh fuck...” Charlie breathed, blinking in the sunlight streaming in through the window. “What did we...”  
“I was just asking myself that,” Harry murmured sleepily from his right. “Morning, arsehole.”  
“What?” Charlie blinked.  
“I'm the only one that didn't get to come,” Harry said moodily. “And that's unfair, and rude, and I want to _hurt_ you both.”  
“You're good at that,” Ron muttered darkly.  
  
Charlie watched as his brother pushed himself up with one hand. He rubbed at his eyes, but it wasn't until Ron had fully risen and walked from the bedroom did he make the connection between the motion and the dampness on his shoulder.  
  
He and Harry lay in silence, until the sound of the front door slamming propelled them both upright.  
  
“Where's he gone?” Harry asked anxiously.  
“Dunno,” Charlie staggered as he fought to put one foot through the leghole of his boxers. “Harry... last night...”  
“No... don't... don't say anything.” Harry shook his head and looked around for his own t-shirt. “You enjoyed yourself, didn't you?”  
“I...” Charlie's head was full of swimming images, of Ron's delirious eyes, of Harry's flushed mouth -of his own orgasm overpowering him and torching through to his core. “I'm going to go and find Ron.”  
“Are you sober enough?” Harry asked, following his question up with a belch. “I'm not.”  
“Well then he's not sober enough to be out around rocks and dragons,” Charlie said pointedly. “I'll find him.”  
  
Harry nodded and watched Charlie struggle to find the neck hole of his t-shirt.  
  
“Bollocks,” Charlie cursed, hurting his nose as he forced the issue. “Is there anything I should know, Harry?”  
  
Growing up with four younger brothers and a sister had given Charlie the excellent ability to know when someone was lying to him. He had known that Valeriu had been lying to him for months -it had only been his own attachment which had kept them together. As Harry spoke, Charlie knew he was lying.  
  
“Nope.”  
“Right then.” He rammed his feet into his fallen boots.  
  
He left the bedroom without another word and pulled his coat from the floor of the poky hallway of his cabin. Thrusting his arms through the holes, he noticed that Ron's was still crumpled on the carpet. He picked it up to take with him, knowing that a Romanian winter settling into Ron's bones would do him no good at all.  
  
“When the fuck did it snow?!” He asked himself loudly. The ground was covered in thick white powder and Charlie shivered. It did, however, afford him footprints -large footprints with the tread of Ron's boots in the snow.  
  
He followed them into the nearest trees. With his vivid hair against the blanket of white, Ron wasn't hard to find; he was sitting on a fallen tree watching nothing in particular with his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. Charlie approached him and draped the coat around his shoulders without saying anything. He sat down on the log next to him and waited.  
  
“I feel dirty,” Ron whispered without provocation.  
  
Charlie didn't know what to say to him. “I feel loved,” he offered back. “I feel... human again. Why did you do what you did, Ron?”  
“You were lonely...” the tightness of his voice told Charlie he was again being lied to.  
“And when you leave at the end of the week, Ron... I'll still be lonely, so why don't you tell me the truth, eh?”  
“I feel dirty,” Ron repeated.  
  
Charlie lifted his hand to place it on Ron's shoulder but thought better of it. “I know what we did... wasn't normal,” he said cautiously. “We're brothers... and there are lines and stuff... but we were all drunk,” he grasped wildly at straws. “We were drunk and we were being idiots... but no baby was made, Ron. We're all protected by the spells they drum into gay wizards when you first dare to admit you're gay... we're protected. Relax.”  
“I liked it...” Ron's voice broke as he admitted it.  
“So did I.” Charlie shrugged. “I really liked it. You're...” he trailed off, not wanting to embarrass his brother with promises of beauty and attractiveness.  
  
Ron rested his chin on his hand and looked at the snow.  
  
“Charlie, can I tell you something?”  
“Anything you want, Ron.”  
“I think Harry's going to leave me.”  
  
If there was one thing Charlie hadn't expected, it was for those words from Ron's lips.  
  
“What?” he asked, aghast. Ron and Harry had the most solid relationship Charlie knew. Even Bill and Fleur sometimes slept on their arguments and sulked for days. Harry and Ron were _Harry and Ron_ : they were solid.  
  
“I think he's going to leave me,” Ron said quietly. “He's wanted a threesome for ages... and now that I've given in and given him what he wants...” his red head shook hopelessly. “He'll leave me.”  
“What's going on?” Charlie asked sharply. “What aren't you telling me?”  
“He's...” Ron's voice became thick and he sniffed. “There was something with a man from work. A while ago. Something about him giving Harry what he needed where I couldn't.”  
“What something is that?” Charlie tried his best to keep his voice calm through the shock coursing through his body.  
“The chastity thing...” Ron buried his face in his hands. “I hate it, Charlie. I'm not... that's not me. But he likes it and I wouldn't... I took him back when it all came to light what he was doing, going somewhere with this guy where he could be someone's submissive and be himself during the day...”  
“Why did you take him back?”  
“Because I fucking love him, you donkey,” Ron spat. “I love him so much I can't breathe at the thought of being without him. I've done what I had to do to keep him and now... now it's all fucked up anyway. He'll leave me, Charlie, I'm sure of it.”  
  
“Why the _hell_ did you let me touch him last night?” Charlie asked. The look in Ron's eyes when he had suggested that Harry suck him off made all the sense in the world that morning; Charlie wished it had made sense the evening before.  
  
“Because I thought...” Ron's voice gave out and he coughed. “I thought that if I was there... if it was someone that we both loved... and I trusted the person touching him... it wouldn't hurt as much, Charlie.”  
“And?” Charlie already knew Ron's answer.  
“I'm fucked,” Ron said simply.  
  
Flinging his arm around Ron's shoulders, Charlie dragged him closer without thinking.  
  
“Don't touch me,” Ron asked weakly. “I can't...”  
“Ron. This isn't about sex. This isn't about getting off on you. This is about me giving you something you clearly need... help.”  
“It's not help though!” Ron burst out, jumping to his feet. “I used you, Charlie, and you're broken enough as it is. What kind of man does that make me, that I would use my own brother to make my own situation better?”  
“I don't feel used,” Charlie clarified, standing up. “I... don't know what the fuck I feel, other than so sorry for you that I could go back in there and punch him to Hogwarts and back.”  
  
Fear sparked in Ron's eyes. “No, Charlie. No. Let me handle this my way. Don't hurt him.”  
“He deserves it!” Charlie felt his protective nature flare to life in his chest. “He's cheated on you, and now you think he'll leave you. Someone needs to sort him out. Give him a few thumps round the ear and bring him back to normality!”  
  
“No,” Ron repeated firmly. “You touch him and I'll give it back to you, Charlie. Tenfold. D'you hear me?”  
“Are you threatening me?” Charlie asked incredulously, looking at Ron's shaking form.  
“I'm...”  
  
Ron apparently didn't know what he was doing; he simply shook his head and turned away.  
  
Charlie watched his wandering form and wondered, in the space of two days, how everything had gone so wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

  
** Cavalry At The Door -Part II **

The atmosphere in his tiny little cabin had gone from miserable to stifling. Charlie continually found it hard to breathe. He hadn't spent much time within the walls since Ron's confession about his relationship, and had chosen instead to take the shifts nobody else wanted over the Christmas period simply to escape his guests. Harry and Ron barely spoke, conversing in tight smiles and never mentioning what had happened between the three of them. Without doubt, it was driving Charlie slowly mad.

He pushed open the front door to the cabin, dreading what he might find on entering. He had stayed in the veterinary enclosure for as long as he possibly could, but had been thrown out by the site manager and threatened with the label of workaholic. Regretfully, Charlie had trudged through snow to his home, all the while searching for somewhere to disappear to.

Feeling uncomfortable in his own house was not something that Charlie had anticipated, considering that since the end of his relationship he had felt more uncomfortable in his own skin than ever before. The house had been his only sanctuary. As usual, the air was fraught when he entered; he didn't bother to unzip his coat.

He was still several feet away when he heard the first raised voice from the living room.

“Ron, why are you saying this?”  
“Because I'm sick of waiting for you to say it.”

Charlie recognised the tremor in Ron's voice and held his breath, waiting for the explosion. It was the sort of tremor that came when Ron was holding back tears, trying so hard to control himself that he lost control of his words in the process.

“Where've you got the idea from anyway?” Harry cried. “I've never said I didn't love you, never said I didn't want to grow old with you.”

Ron's laugh was bitter. “Sleeping with another man sort of implied that for you, Harry.”

Their honesty kept Charlie fully aware that neither of them knew of his presence out in the hallway. His own curiosity kept him standing there, glued to the carpet and unable to shuffle to his room and give them the privacy they deserved.

“You know why I... I thought you understood that?” Harry pleaded. “It was wrong and I know that, I've apologised over and over...”  
“Yeah, but, Harry... you can apologise but it doesn't mean anything if you don't mean what you say.”  
“Of course I fucking meant it! I dropped it immediately. I shared _everything_ with you, the parts I was too ashamed to admit in the first place and led me to sleeping with a fucking stranger.”  
“He didn't stay a stranger,” Ron ground out.  
“No, he didn't,” Harry said shakily. “And I regret that.”  
“You don't regret sleeping with him in the first place?”

A nasty silence stretched between them and Charlie silently filled in the gaps with what he thought Harry should have been saying to placate his lover. When nothing came, anger stabbed in his chest and belly, and Charlie's fingers curled into fists.

_You're not fighting for him._

The reality of not being fought for was still too raw in Charlie's chest to be able to stand the thought of it happening to someone that he loved, never mind someone who shared his flesh, blood and essence.

“It's over,” Ron said finally. “Just go home, Harry. There's nothing else to say, is there?”  
“I love you,” Harry said testily.  
“Well you've got a fucking funny way of showing it!” Ron finally shouted. “Say you're sorry, do a fucking dance, whatever you want, Harry, but it doesn't make up for the fact that you make me put your cock in a cage and do things that I hate just to keep you!”  
“Well that's your own stupid prerogative, isn't it?” Harry yelled back. “I didn't ask you to do any of that.”  
“I was afraid you'd leave me if I didn't!”  
“And now you're ending it anyway?” Harry laughed nastily. “You really don't have a clue, do you?”  
“More than you do.”

Ron's voice wavered.

“I love you,” Harry tried again, his voice far softer. Charlie imagined how his expression would also soften.  
“I love you too,” Ron replied. “But you keep on hurting me, Harry... and I can't do it any more.”  
“Does Charlie know that you used him the other night?” Harry asked. “Because I sure as fuck knew what you were doing, and he's not daft either. Were you really that desperate to keep me that you had to reel in your brother when he's already down enough?”

Deeply resenting his own appearance in the argument, Charlie rounded the corner into the sitting room and headed straight for Harry. It was almost as if another was controlling his actions as he grabbed the wizard by the front of his jumper and slammed him into the nearest wall.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” he snarled, putting his face close to Harry's. “How dare you treat him like that?”  
“Charlie, stop it,” Ron demanded from behind them.

Charlie ignored him and gave Harry a hard shake. “What was the point of breaking Ginny's heart for Ron only to do the same thing to him a few years down the line?” he glared in Harry's direction. “I'm waiting for an answer, Potter. Give me it.”  
“I didn't mean to hurt him.” Harry's eyes had widened to saucer-like proportions and Charlie found himself enjoying the fear within them.

It was so unlike him to enjoy Harry's anxiety, he realised. He was a strong man, willing to stand up and protect someone weaker than himself -but he rarely enjoyed inflicting pain or inciting fear. For Harry, however, who cowered slightly in his grip, the pleasure was very real, and thudding hard in his veins.

“You don't deserve him.” Charlie gave his bones a final rattle and released him. It didn't surprise him that Harry slid a few feet down the wall. “Get out of my sight.”

Harry stood frozen, staring dead at Charlie, as if trying to remember how his legs worked. Finally he straightened, using the wall for support, and fled the sitting room. Charlie swallowed and looked down at his shoes.

“Charlie.” Ron's soft rebuke made him wince. “I told you not to do that.”  
“He deserved it,” Charlie answered stonily. “He deserved to be put in his place. I didn't hit him, what more do you want?”  
“For you to keep your nose out.”

Ron's tone sounded oddly offended, which in turn offended Charlie. He turned to look at him.

“It's hard to keep my nose out when you dragged it in without telling it all the details first.”  
“You were willing enough when he was sucking on your cock,” Ron said acidly, and turned on his heel to stalk from the room.

Seconds later Charlie heard the front door slam.

Even though there was nobody to care about his flounce, he stomped to his bedroom and slammed the door so hard behind him that the wall shook. Throwing himself face down on his bed, Charlie enjoyed the smothering sensation of the pillow as he stuffed his face into it. It was a nice break from the reality, and the lack of breath curling through his respiratory system almost cleansed him. When his vision began to fuzz in the darkness behind his closed eyelids, Charlie pulled his face up and finally breathed.

It almost choked him.

Christmas looked to be an utter failure. Harry and Ron, the firmest relationship he knew, looked to be coming to an end, and he was alone for the first time in seven years. He missed the gentle warmth of his partner lying on the bed beside him. He missed the feel of calloused hands smoothing over his bare back, appreciating his tattoos and parting his buttocks, caressing the most sensitive parts of his body. He missed the man who knew every crevice of his body to the millimetre, who knew how to push him and how to please him.

He missed love, Charlie realised with a sinking heart. Watching Harry and Ron's die around him was not helping, but more than anything, the walls seemed to be the poison which hurt him. He had fallen in love within them, he had laughed at jokes, cried out with ecstasy, screamed with anger and been left broken hearted there. They had sheltered him, housed him, given him a home away from home, but they were no longer safe.

Charlie didn't know if they were what he wanted any more, either.

Rolling over onto his back, he tucked the palm of one hand beneath his head to support it. The rustle of his coat reminded him that he was still wearing it, having been too caught up in the argument to remove it. It was warm and soft around him, everything that the atmosphere was not.

He felt his body shutting down as the heat enveloped him. Sleep seemed the only answer when his mind was spinning with uncomfortable questions and his heart hinting at confusing solutions.

Charlie was just drifting off to sleep when he heard a timid knock on his bedroom door. It opened without his permission and seconds later the bed dipped as a body sat down on the edge of the mattress.

“Whozzat?” Charlie mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes.  
“It's me,” Ron sighed.

There were two thumps as his boots hit the floor and Charlie groaned when the bed bounced as the man next to him laid down. “Why're you still in your coat?”  
“Cold,” Charlie lied, rolling onto his side and nuzzling into his pillow. “Tired.”  
“Me too,” Ron agreed. “Tired of everything. Lying, fighting, not sleeping.”  
“Sleep,” Charlie instructed, flinging one arm over Ron's chest and pulling him closer across the bed. “Everything's better when you have a good sleep.”  
“I can't sleep because every time that I close my eyes, I'm frightened that I'll wake up and find that he's gone.”  
“If he is... don't you think it might be for the best, Ron?”

There was a moment's silence before Ron answered, “I still love him, Charlie. And I want to work through this.”  
“Why? It sounds a like a lot of work without assurance.”  
“I don't want to end up like you.”

Ron's whisper was kindly put, but it cut painfully all the same. Charlie held his breath and swallowed on a suddenly dry throat.

“Come home with us...” Ron whispered. “Don't be alone, Charlie. Not when there are people that love you, they're just miles away. Come home and see everyone.”

Charlie didn't answer but transferred his face from his pillow to Ron's shoulder.

“Do you mind this?” he asked quietly, remembering Ron's words about the touches they had shared.  
“No.”  
“Sure?”  
“I'm sure.”

Charlie nodded and allowed the darkness to settle fully in his eyes. Ron smelt strongly beneath his face, of aftershave and soap, so beautifully clean that it threw Charlie back to the days when he would help to bathe him as a baby, and would playfully splash with him in the Weasley makeshift baby bath.

“I know I should never have had favourites,” Charlie mumbled sleepily as he drifted off again. “But you were always mine.”

***  
“I'm sorry.”

Charlie tried his hardest to keep still, listening to the words in the hallway outside. The light filtering through his open door made his eyes sting, despite the fact that they were still closed.

“Ron... I don't want to lose you.”  
“Because nobody else would have you?”

Ron's attempt at a joke failed and Charlie thought he heard a deep sniff, one that didn't belong to his brother.

“This can't go back to normal, can it?” Harry asked miserably. “I've fucked up too much.”  
“We've both done that...” Ron said, too kindly. “And... if it takes work... then it takes work, but I don't want to lose you either. I only said what I said because I cracked, Harry.”  
“You've never shouted at me like that before.”

Charlie felt nauseated listening to their conversation. He wanted to throw something at Ron's head and tell him to hold on to his dignity, to remind him of the pain he felt and the hurt that Harry had caused him. He wanted Harry to hurt equally, to feel as lost as his brother had.

_No, as lost as you have._

Annoyed with himself, Charlie tried to block out the conversation.

“I feel so bad that Charlie got dragged into this...” Harry sighed.  
“So do I... but I couldn't think of anyone else... we were drunk... it was...”  
“Stupid,” Harry finished. “And not what he needed.”  
“Not what any of us needed,” Ron conceded.  
“I can't believe that you did that for me, though.”

There were no more words spoken between them, and Charlie thought he heard the soft sound of smooching coming from the doorway.

_Get a room._

“Come on...”

Harry's provocative whisper made Charlie want to scream. It was the very whisper he wanted to hear, from someone -anybody- to make him feel human again. Needing sex to feel alive was wrong, he assumed, but being with Harry and Ron had proved he was right.

_Mindless sex._

Harry and Ron had not been mindless sex, however, Charlie groaned as he turned back over and buried his face back into his pillow.

He started when he felt the feather-light touch of fingers sliding up beneath his coat, pushing his t-shirt with them. Only then did he realise that the small of his back was damp with sweat from the heat of sleeping in the thick shell. His head flew up and he turned over, staring accusingly.

“Hey.” Ron's greeting was husky and low.  
“What are you doing?” Charlie looked pointedly at Ron's hand, which, with his abrupt movement, had fallen.  
“Touching you...” Ron swallowed. “Is that... not what you want?”  
“If I want it, it's not what I _need_.”  
“I won't have sex with him in this cabin if you're not there.”  
“You're mental.”  
“No, I'm being fair. There's no fairness in you knowing what we're doing in the next room along when you're alone, Charlie. I know that would hurt you.”  
“What I don't get, Ron,” Charlie said, pushing himself to sitting. “Is why you're in here with me instead of with Harry, fucking him senseless, and trying to save your relationship.”  
“Sex won't save our relationship.” Ron's laugh was too aged for his young face. “It won't. Sex was what messed it up in the first place, if you think about it.”  
“Well sex with me isn't really going to do it any good either.”  
“But it might do you some.”

Charlie opened his mouth to retort and found that he didn't have anything to say. Ron patiently waited for an answer, taking his hand back and folding it into his own lap.

“I don't think sleeping with you is going to help me,” Charlie mumbled finally. “You're my brother. That's not normal sex and it's not healthy either... too many emotions there. We shouldn't have done it in the first place.”

Ron's eyes dipped, highlighting his shame.

“Even if it felt really good...” Charlie muttered, annoyed with himself for admitting it.  
“We're not offering you a relationship...” Ron's face was suddenly too close, and Charlie could see the length of his brother's eyelashes and the delicate freckles across the bridge of his nose. “Because that's not going to work with the nosiest mother on the planet. Just some comfort if you want it. While we're here.”

The extra weight from the bed was suddenly gone, and Charlie looked up as his bedroom door closed quietly behind Ron.

He wondered how the day had gone from the end of a relationship, the healing of one, to the offer of another threesome within the precarious relationship.

_They don't know what they're offering._ He thought stubbornly.

Unzipping his coat, Charlie kicked off his boots and stripped out of the rest of his clothes. Determined not to give in, he clambered beneath his duvet, and closed his eyes.

***  
“Merry Christmas!” Charlie forced some vitality into his voice as Ron ambled into the kitchen. “Even though we celebrate Yule.”  
“Technicalities.” Ron grinned blearily in his direction. “You were out late last night?”

The question was probing. Charlie looked down at the coffee he had made to try and clear the last of his hangover and thought carefully about how to answer it.

“Well, when work all go out together it tends to be an all-nighter.”  
“You could have told us that,” Ron said quietly. “We were worried.”  
“I'm not used to anyone worrying about me here,” Charlie answered bluntly. “But... sorry, I should have warned you.”  
“So what did you do?” Ron reached for the kettle.  
“Drunk a lot, had a nice meal, that sort of thing...”  
“Did you... Did you see your ex, like you were worried about?”

Charlie chewed hard on the inside of his cheek. “Yes. Briefly. With her.”  
“That's shit,” Ron offered.  
“Uh-huh.”

Charlie padded to the sofa and sat down, hoping that his retreat would end the discussion.

“Did you meet anyone else?” Ron followed him, plopping down at the opposite end of the settee.  
“Maybe.”  
“Did you get some last night then?”  
“Ron, really, isn't this a bit much to talk about before breakfast?”  
“I'm asking because you look dead on your feet and there's a mark on your neck that looks suspiciously like a bite mark.”  
“You're becoming our mother,” Charlie said darkly. “I miss the days when you were so excited about your presents nothing else mattered.”  
“Were you safe?”

“Ron!” Charlie found himself spluttering. He tried to remember the last time anybody had questioned him over his sexual exploits, and couldn't.

“Just asking,” Ron said sheepishly. “Worried about you.”  
“Well don't be,” Charlie said firmly. “I'm fine. I haven't been, but I _will_ be. Anyway. How's your failed relationship?”  
“Ouch.” Ron winced.  
“Two can play at the 'uncomfortable questions' game, mate.”  
“We're... talking a lot. Both of us, me too. All that deep and meaningful bollocks you try not to even think, let alone say.”

Charlie nodded and stared at the Christmas tree that Harry and Ron had decorated together the day before. The decorations were all wonky and there was far too much tinsel, but Charlie knew why Ron had done that. It looked like the trees of their youth, where their mother would start out trying to make the tree respectable, and then as more and more of her children joined in the decorating the tree became more and more insane.

He couldn't help but grin at it.

“Thanks for being here,” he said quietly, turning his head to look at Ron. “Even though... we've not exactly had a thrilling time, I'm grateful for the company.”  
“Did you think any more about what I said?” Ron sipped at his tea before speaking again. “About coming home with us? If you want somewhere to stay that isn't with Mum, you could always have our spare room.”  
“But are you just going to keep offering me sex?”  
“No, that stays here.”  
“I don't understand why you're offering.” Charlie turned to him. “I don't get you, Ron. You've spent the past however many months terrified you're going to lose your partner, and now you're working through it, you want to introduce another man to the mix?”  
“You're not just any man though, are you?”  
“I should be.”  
“Well, you aren't.” Ron shrugged and got to his feet. “You said in the woods that morning that being with us made you feel loved and human again. All I want is for you to feel that way again, even if means making things harder between Harry and I for a while.”

“You're a twat,” Charlie said breathlessly.  
“Well... probably.” Ron shrugged and departed the living room.  
“And if I come home, it's to fucking watch over you,” Charlie muttered beneath his breath.

***

“I'm really sorry that I burnt the turkey,” Ron slurred, waving his pint glass apologetically.  
“For the last time, it wasn't burnt... once we'd scraped the charred bits off, it was fine,” Charlie dismissed with a devilish grin.

“Oi!” Ron yelped, and beer slopped over the rim of his glass and landed on the carpet. “Whoops.”  
“Ah no bother.” Charlie hooked one foot around a coffee table leg and yanked it over Ron's spill. “Gone.”  
“Like magic.” Ron giggled at his own joke.  
“I think you need to go to bed,” Charlie said, fully amused by his brother's inebriation.

They had already lost Harry an hour before, who had been full and sleepy and falling asleep where he sat. Charlie had watched with burgeoning jealousy as he and Ron had shared a noisy, loving kiss goodnight.

“You should get to Harry. He'll wonder where his hot water bottle is,” Charlie said begrudgingly.

Ron laughed again and got up, setting down his glass. Charlie was surprised when the tall boy flopped down next to him, and turned to him.

“Wanna be your hot water bottle.”  
“No you don't.”  
“Do,” Ron said stubbornly, and leant closer.

Charlie could smell him in the thick, festive air; he smelt as he always did -and that had recently become delicious. Throat thickening, Charlie stared into Ron's sapphire eyes and waited for him to say something else, so that he could tell him to go to bed again without sounding like too much like an older brother.

“I love you, Charlie... like in this... brother way and in a...”

Ron's eyes dipped telling down Charlie's chest to his crotch.

“You don't love me in that way,” Charlie informed him. “You're drunk.”  
“And you're sexy,” Ron declared.

Without further warning, Ron leant in and kissed Charlie on the lips. In surprise, his mouth opened and then it was full of Ron's tongue, worming against his own and licking at the roof of his mouth. There was a muffled moan and Charlie was aware of weight on his thighs. Ron's large hands smoothed onto his shoulders and his thumbs stroked along his collarbones. Pinning him to the sofa, Ron trapped him successfully and continued to master the kiss.

Gasping, Charlie tried to pull back. Ron followed him.

Trying to speak his voice sank to the depths of Ron's throat and disappeared. His protest was ignored and Ron rolled his hips forward, pressing his obvious interest into Charlie's belly.

“Mmmph stop it!” he choked, grabbing Ron's slight hips and pushing him backwards. There was a pained grunt and then Ron began to pant. “Stop it.”  
“Why?” A frown marred his handsome face.  
“Because this is wrong,” Charlie said softly. “You're my brother. You're in a relationship which nearly ended this week... you shouldn’t be kissing another man, let alone me.”  
“But it made you feel good,” Ron protested drunkenly. “And I liked it... I keep dreaming about it and waking up with come in my pants and I...”

Charlie did the only thing he could think of to stop Ron's voice from rising higher. He pressed his forefinger over plump, reddened lips and held them together.

“I want you,” Charlie whispered. “But I won't have you. Not now. You're drunk. You'll wake up regretting it. I don't want to ruin anything between us, or you and Harry.”  
“But you kiss me back.” Ron actually began to pout.

“Because sometimes I can't help myself...”

Ron's eyes widened and then his face flamed with embarrassment. Charlie winced with pain as all ten stone of his brother clambered awkwardly from his lap, and then closed his eyes to the slam of the living room door.

* * *

It felt a relief to sink back into their own sofa, Harry found, having spent the most fraught week in Romania that he could have imagined. He wasn't a fool, and he knew that his own actions had driven Ron into creating the tension. He looked over to where Ron had fallen asleep, his head drooping onto the armrest as his long bones were folded up neatly to remain on his own seat cushion.

Harry felt his innards tense as he looked at what he had so nearly lost. Ron was beautiful, too beautiful to lose -all long limbs, freckles and creamy, creamy skin. Absent-mindedly he reached out caress the one foot he could reach, dragging his thumb along the long arch through Ron's sock. It was damp with sweat from their journey, clinging to the skin beneath as he pressed into it. Ron didn't move, his breathing even and deep.

He knew that Ron had been more upset than he had shown over the fact that Charlie had decided to remain in Romania alone. Harry had walked in on Ron pleading with him to return to England on more than one occasion, but to no avail. Thinking of Charlie made Harry hot with embarrassment, that the difficulties in his and Ron's relationship had become so well known by another, and that another had thought to take him to task in such a physical manner.

_I deserved it._

Letting out a tired groan, Harry dropped his head back onto the cushion behind him and closed his eyes. Their holiday had left them both more tired than it should have done, simply for the emotion they had burnt through over the course of the seven days. Ron sported dark shadows beneath his eyes and the rest of his face was paler than pale, almost ghostly -Harry realised with deep shame that he had been looking at the ghostly face for months, and never thought to analyse it, never thought to _talk_ to Ron about his feelings.

“Such an arsehole,” he muttered to himself, regretfully shaking his head.  
“Yeah, but I love you anyway,” Ron grunted in reply, finally shifting. He tugged his foot free of Harry's hand and swung it down to the floor. He stretched, and the sounds of a yawn and popping joints filled the quiet room.  
“You need oiling,” Harry said reprovingly, thinking of the way that Ron's leg stiffened when it rained, and the way his delicious hips creaked some mornings in the cold.

The physical pressure that Ron had put himself under for Harry in the war humbled him into the ground.

“You've got your thinking face on,” Ron surmised. “Don't think, Harry. Dangerous things happen then.”

A light laugh replaced the yawning and bone cracking, and it went a considerable way to warming the room. Ron leant close and kissed him on the cheek.

“Feels good to be home,” he murmured.  
“It does,” Harry agreed, turning his face and kissing Ron on the lips.

They parted beneath him, giving him instant access, but Harry didn't abuse it. He kept the kiss chaste, pressing only his lips to Ron's, keeping his jaw movements slow and easy. Ron pulled back.

They looked at one another for a moment, each seemingly trying to think of what to say.

“You're worried about him, aren't you?” Harry said finally. “Charlie.”  
“Yeah...” Ron rubbed awkwardly at his nose. “I'm the prick for getting him involved and then we came away and left him... it doesn't feel right.”  
“He's a grown man,” Harry said unhelpfully. “And he can make his own decisions.”  
“But if they're the wrong ones?” Ron asked obstinately. “Do I have to sit back and let him make them, get himself hurt more?”

The tense shift of Ron's shoulders caused Harry to reach for them. He dug his fingers in and began to massage.

“I know you love him,” he whispered. “And I think that what we did... only made you love him more, maybe you liked it when he touched you... when you kissed.”  
“Shut up Harry.” Ron's face flamed red.  
“There's nothing wrong with that... liking it that another man touched you.”  
“There is when he's your _brother_.”  
“Not normal, but come on... you won't be the first, or the last.”  
“It's disgusting,” Ron said weakly.

“How much of you begging him to come home was because of your own attraction, Ron?”  
“Harry, I'm not that much of a bastard-”  
“Just tell me.”

Ron hesitated, and then his eyes fell to his lap. “Some.”

Harry leant forward and granted him a kiss on the tip of his nose for his honesty.

“But I think Charlie knew that... and I think that's why he stayed there.”

They were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Ron jumped and huddled, almost frightened, into the back of the sofa.

“This isn't over,” Harry warned him, rising to his feet. “We need to talk about this. You've hidden everything you've felt for too long and look where it nearly got us.”  
“I know,” Ron muttered unhappily.

Harry was still mid speech when he opened the door and choked on his words.

“Hey.”

Charlie looked back at him with slumped shoulders and several bags at his feet.

“Hi,” Harry said dumbly in reply.  
“Can I stay with you two for a while?”

Harry looked over his shoulder at Ron, who was wide-eyed on the sofa. He looked back at Charlie, who was staring at Ron with an odd expression.

“As long as you want.” Harry nodded, heart thrumming hard in his chest, unsure of what Charlie's expression meant. He stepped back to let the second redhead in, the smell of cinnamon and broom polishing crème passing him in the air with Charlie's stocky body.

_-fin-_   



End file.
